


you'll see me in hindsight

by theweightofmywords



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, F/M, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 23:58:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5226077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweightofmywords/pseuds/theweightofmywords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plenty of clients paid him just for his company. Hermione usually got her money’s worth, but conversation flowed easily between them. Ron pushed the conversations they had had over the course of their year-long acquaintance to the back of his mind. Thinking about Hermione made him feel strange, like he was in mourning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you'll see me in hindsight

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns these characters.

Ron’s body ached as he climbed out of bed, the early morning’s sun drenching the hotel room in a warm haze. He began dressing, his eyes wandering to the dresser, where an envelope sat.

He glanced at the balcony, where a woman, draped in a white hotel sheet, stood. She turned her head, and upon seeing him, gave a warm smile. She walked towards the French doors. 

“Good morning,” she said, placing her arms around his hips. Ron leaned down to give her a kiss, and he felt the sheet between them slipping. As her hands started to pull him closer, he pulled away. 

“I need to get going,” he mumbled, glancing at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 

“Do you?” the woman asked coyly, reaching down between them. Ron’s body betrayed his intentions to leave. Her lips brushing against his chest, she smiled, “Got somewhere else to be?”

“I really do need to go now,” he replied, after reluctantly backing away from her. He began pulling his pants on.

“A brunch date?” she asked. Ron tried to ignore the tense tone in her voice.

“No. I’m babysitting my sister’s kid.” He was now fully dressed. He patted his pants down to check for his wallet. 

“Would you ever want kids?” she asked, looking out at the balcony again. Ron’s eyes darted in her direction, then to the envelope on the dresser. Looking down as he put his shoes on, he sighed. 

“Hermione, I’m not in any position to have kids,” he muttered.

“Maybe one day,” she said, staring directly at him. Ron looked away uncomfortably, his chest aching, as he slipped the envelope into his pocket. 

“Next week?” he said.

“No, I’ll be in Paris for a meeting with labor delegates,” she said. “Two weeks from now. Same place.”

“I’ll see you then,” he answered, leaving the hotel room.

“Yes. See you,” she replied, her voice distant as she walked back to the balcony.

\-- 

Ron rubbed his face dry with the hotel washcloth and looked at his reflection. His normally messy red hair was combed back, making him appear more sleek and professional. He tried to present himself as a travelling businessman whenever he worked in these types of hotels, but staring at his reflection, knowing that Hermione was waiting on the bed already, he was reminded of his actual profession.

“Nice robe,” Ron said to Hermione, taking off his shoes. He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her expectantly. Ron began crawling up to her, but she put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“Why don’t we just…” she began. Ron hesitantly kneeled on the bed in front of her. “Can we just sit? And talk?” she asked.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied. Plenty of clients paid him just for his company. Hermione usually got her money’s worth, but conversation flowed easily between them. Ron pushed the conversations they had had over the course of their year-long acquaintance to the back of his mind. Thinking about Hermione made him feel strange, like he was in mourning. 

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” she said. “I know the circumstances of our… relationship, or whatever you want to call it, are not traditional.” 

Ron’s brow furrowed as he thought back to their first meeting. His family had always been poor, and when his house burnt down in a fire, he dropped out of school to begin working. The jobs he managed to find paid the bare minimum, and when his family’s landlord threatened to evict them if they missed another month of rent, desperation drove him down a path he never thought he’d go. 

“It makes good money. And it’s not as dangerous as you’d think,” his friend Seamus had suggested. Seamus’s parents had lost their family business because of the stock market collapse. Ron and Seamus had worked odd jobs together until Seamus stopped showing up. After a month or two, Ron saw him, wearing a fancy suit and emerging out of a hotel with a posh woman. 

Ron wasn’t ashamed of his work, although he didn’t particularly enjoy it all the time. He made sure to set up firm boundaries on his personal sexual limits prior to meeting with any clients, and he had never felt threatened by any of them. Sex was a part of it, yes, but the majority of his clients were people who just wanted someone to confide in. 

Hermione had initially been very physical with him. They did not speak at all for the first few meetings, and she had not let him kiss her. Ron knew that she was a high-level government bureaucrat, and for someone so young, he assumed that she had to be a bit of a work-aholic. But slowly, she began to reveal more of herself to him– quick stories about her frustration with colleagues, memories of her days at school. He felt himself opening up to her too, with jokes, and tales from his childhood, interesting things he saw on his way to the hotel. He knew he was playing with fire by getting too close to her, but each time he was with her, he willingly flung himself across her flames. 

Until one day, Ron saw a picture of her in the paper, arm-in-arm with another bureaucrat at some government function. He could barely focus that night, when he was with another client, his thoughts and his body consumed by his muddled feelings for her. The next time Hermione arranged a meeting, he fucked her against the hotel door, his mouth far from hers. 

But after a few weeks, he felt himself slipping. Ron knew he was playing with fire. He knew she could stop calling him at any time, and he would have no right to see her anymore, but he couldn’t care. Not when they were both holding each other, exhausted and sated, the true nature of their relationship a distant reality. 

“You’re worth more than any amount of money I could give,” she whispered. Tentatively, she reached for his hand. “Ron, I… I love–” 

“You need to stop,” Ron interrupted, pulling his hand away from her. He looked away, but he knew that if he hadn’t, he would see sadness on her face. It would be the same look she wore that first night he refused to kiss her.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” she cried. 

“Well, I come with a price. I don’t do this for fun!” he roared, jumping off the bed. “You get to go home to your luxury loft and rub shoulders with rich world leaders over five-star meals while I have to turn tricks! You don’t get to tell me that you love me!” 

“It’s different with us!” She stood in front of him now, and although her eyes were red with tears, her face was defiant. Determined. Ron felt a searing ache in his chest. He wanted to hold her, smell her, taste her, tell her all that he felt for her. He had a vision of them waking up every day, no envelopes, no prepaid cell-phones, no hotel rooms. Ron felt like he was crashing down to earth when he saw her silk robe, her expensive handbag. He felt dirty suddenly, and he hated her for it.

“How would you know?” he whispered. 

She looked as if he had slapped her. She walked towards the dresser, her hands clutching at the edge as if she would collapse without it. 

“You’re right.”

“Hermione…” Ron said lowly, surprised at the thickness in his throat. He felt hot suddenly as he angrily brushed a tear off his face. 

“The envelope’s on the bedside table,” she said, her voice shaking. He grabbed the envelope and walked to the door, his mouth shut tight to keep her from hearing his sobs.


End file.
